He who dies with most the toys is, nonetheless, still dead.

POETRY

You may find my poems
Showing posts with label Futility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Futility. Show all posts

Stanivlasky Meets Matalan




Community theatre is a farce

Led by the educated class

Who gull the aimless disengaged

Then set them up upon some stage

Oblivious of Bertholt Brecht

Whose needs are really being met

Druids




Druids

You get on my tits

With your standing stones

Your sacred bones

Pendragon clones

Daft dream catchers

Hairy thatches

Animistic

Polytheistic allegories

Penchant for cloaks

And ancient oaks

Doing your rounds

On your burial mounds

Are you having a laugh

With your willow staff

Your Herbal teas and remedies

Celtic crosses

Fucking tossers

The Existential Fireman




The existential fireman

Flung freefell from his frown

Passing

Ladders

Hoses

Lies

Himself

Suspended

As a clown